Shadow World
by M C Pehrson
Summary: Story #18 On Vulcan, Spock's daughter lied before ShiKahr's Council of Elders. Now, at his urging, she is going back to confess her crime.
1. Chapter 1

The floodwaters had receded from ShiKahr, leaving only a lingering trace of humidity in the hot air of late Belaar, the Vulcan summer. Built on a natural rise, Sarek's house had escaped damage, but the gardens of the estate had clearly suffered under the relentless rain. Outside, T'Beth looked things over. Only the Earth plants were thriving—Grandmother's fat red tomatoes and candy-colored dahlias. Even her cactus had appreciated a good watering.

But despite this, Amanda was not in the best of moods. Her husband and son were not speaking and they had both taken off for Earth, leaving her alone with a teenage granddaughter who was probably more trouble than she was worth. No, this was not a good time to rile her, but T'Beth's parting promise to her father hung over her head like a black cloud. If she had to go back to the Council of Elders, she wanted to get it over with, preferably before Sarek returned. Maybe then her grandfather's anger would have time to cool. Maybe he wouldn't punish her for taking his skimmer and running away. Maybe he would actually be proud that she had admitted to her mistakes. There was only one way to find out. Her mouth went dry as she headed for the front gate. No sooner had she touched the latch, than a voice called out to her.

"T'Beth—where are you going?"

She turned and found Amanda standing in the front doorway. "Into town," she answered.

"Why?" came the predictable response.

T'Beth shifted nervously. "There's…something Father wanted me to do."

Her grandmother eyed her with suspicion. "You're not going anywhere unless you tell me more than that."

T'Beth frowned in irritation. "Never mind. I'll find something else to do." That is, some other way to do it _._ Walking around to the side of the house, she jumped at the garden wall and pulled herself over the top, into the neighbor's yard. In a matter of minutes she was at the council pavilion in the heart of ShiKahr.

She had no appointment to see the elders. The male receptionist pointed her to a seat where she waited for so long that she almost gave up. She was counting the tiles on the floor when a council page came to the door with a delivery for the reception desk. As the youth turned, his dark Vulcan eyes lit on T'Beth and they stared at one another in shock.

"Samar!" said T'Beth. On the day of her hearing she had encountered him outside, but she hadn't realized that he worked at the pavilion.

Samar approached her, his eyes narrowed. "What are you doing here?" he demanded in a low voice.

"Is that any of your concern?" she coolly replied. She saw that he was, in fact, deeply concerned and that gave her a great deal of satisfaction. "I will tell you, Samar, because I want you to know. I have come to change my testimony regarding the vandalism of Golheni Temple."

Samar paled. "Do not be a fool!"

"Are you telling me to stand by a lie?" she asked him loudly in his native tongue. "Vulcans do not lie—do they?"

Samar glanced at the receptionist. The man was watching them with an expression that left no doubt as to whether or not he had overheard. Turning back to T'Beth, Samar spoke just above a whisper. "What is done, is done. Your testimony has gone into record. The incident is finished."

"What's the matter?" T'Beth taunted. "Are you afraid? You didn't seem so frightened that night on the desert. By the way, did your father ever find out? Was that Golheni who chased us a friend of his?"

"Be silent!" the boy hissed.

T'Beth looked on him with contempt. "Coward. Sniveling Vulcan coward."

His black eyes grew murderous. "You will regret this. You will see what happens, offworlder."

Turning on his heel, he strode from the antechamber, leaving behind an uneasy silence. Had his words been intended as a threat? At one time T'Beth had actually liked the tall, handsome boy. Under cover of night he had sometimes seemed brave, even noble, but the harsh light of day was revealing his true qualities. Would it be the same with Soldac and T'Jhur? No truth, no substance? Shadow people moving through a shadow world?

The receptionist stood and motioned T'Beth to the hearing room door. With pounding heart T'Beth went into the chamber. Nothing had changed—the heavy smell of furniture wax, wood panels gleaming from lamps mounted on the walls. This time she noticed a huge rough-hewn block of granite in one corner—representing, she supposed, the unyielding rock of Vulcan justice.

T'Beth tore her eyes from the stone and found the three elders gazing down at her from their judgment seats. Swallowing hard, she approached them, glad that at least this time she wasn't clunking around in her father's boots.

"Your name," prompted the male elder in a brusque tone.

They knew exactly who she was, but there was no choice but to follow the age-old ritual. "I am T'Beth, daughter of Adrianna, daughter of Justrelle."

"Why," he demanded, "have you come before us?"

T'Beth felt her courage slipping away. Maybe Samar was right. Maybe she _was_ a fool. But then she thought of Jim Kirk on Earth, facing up to his own misdeeds. She remembered her father's pride in her when she told him that she would also confess. By now her mouth was too parched even to swallow. "I…I would like to reopen my case…and change my testimony."

Dead silence. The three elders glanced at one another with raised eyebrows. T'Beth had lived among Vulcans long enough to recognize their understated shock. In asking to revise her testimony she had, in effect, already admitted to deceit.

The blood rushed to her face. "I didn't tell the truth," she said openly, and lest she lose her nerve, she hurried on. "I went to Golheni Temple in a skimmer with my…companions. We had laser saws. When we got there, we…I took one and used it on some statues."

Scarlet shadows lay over the room as the elders conferred in low voices. Then they turned back to T'Beth. The male elder touched a computer pad and the chamber door opened.

"The bailiff," he said, "will take you to the holding area."

 _Finished so soon?_ With a sense of relief, T'Beth left the hearing chamber and followed the bailiff to a room where she was seated under the watchful eyes of a middle-aged Vulcan woman. The minutes crawled by as she shifted in the hard chair.

"Good woman," she asked respectfully in Vulcan," when will I be able to go home?"

The Vulcan looked at her curiously, as if trying to categorize her Ildaran/Standard accent. "You are a minor. You will be held here until you can be released into the custody of a responsible guardian."

T'Beth felt a stab of apprehension. That meant her grandmother would arrive soon "And then?"

"You will be given the opportunity of a formal hearing before you are sentenced."

oooo

The sky flamed orange and purple with the setting of Eridani. T'Beth was glad to be free at last, even if it meant enduring her grandmother's anger. She meekly walked beside Amanda through the quiet streets of ShiKahr.

"You might have told me what you had planned," Amanda was saying. "At least then I would have been prepared. This is a disgrace—a complete and utter disgrace."

T'Beth scuffed at a pebble on the otherwise immaculate walkway. "Aren't you pleased that I told the truth?"

"It would have pleased me," Amanda said, "if you had told the truth the first time. It would have pleased me even more if you had not run wild in the streets with…with a gang of juvenile delinquents."

"But we weren't really a gang," argued T'Beth, "we were only trying to—"

"Enough!" Amanda's eyes flamed at her in the dusk. "Don't try to justify what you did. Don't expect me to praise you for this belated, clumsy attempt to set things right. If that's what it _really_ is…"

Shamefaced, T'Beth moved along beside her. "It _is,_ " she insisted. "I…I felt so bad, I just wanted to stop lying about it. And Father said—"

Grandmother stopped. "You mentioned your father before. What does _he_ have to do with all this?"

T'Beth blinked back tears. "He knew I did the damage at Golheni. He knew I lied to the elders, and he wanted me to go back."

"Did he tell you to keep your intention secret from your family?"

She hung her head. "No." Even when she tried to do something right, it turned out wrong. "Gram—when will they hold the hearing? What do you think they'll do to me?"

"The hearing will be postponed until Sarek or your father returns. As for your sentence—we humans are a race of liars, the Vulcans know that. Their laws are stringent, but fair."

oooo

 _Stringent but fair._ T'Beth had many days to consider her grandmother's words. There was little else to do this time of year, with school recessed for the hot season. Her friend Rachel had gone with her family to the northern encampment at Pashir. Her twice-weekly sessions with the psychiatrist made it necessary that they stay on in ShiKahr, just Grandmother and herself alone in the estate house.

T'Beth sat on the cool tile floor of her bedroom, her eyes closed. Morning light streamed red through the high windows, making a restless glow on her eyelids. Word had come from Earth that the court martial was over. Admiral Kirk had been broken to captain, but would be given command of a starship. All charges against his officers had been dropped.

That much was good news. It was said, however, that Spock had once more donned the uniform of Starfleet. That meant he would not be returning to Vulcan anytime soon. Sarek would act as her guardian at the hearing…and even now Grandfather was on his way home.

Little currents of fear sidled through her stomach. This, more than anything, she had hoped to avoid. She had wanted the whole thing to be finished before Sarek returned. Now he would sit in council chambers, watching while his granddaughter admitted to the sins of vandalism and deceit.

A knock at the door startled her. She opened her eyes.

"T'Beth," came her grandmother's voice, "you have a visitor."

 _A visitor?_ Warily she got up and followed Amanda into the living room. A dark-haired Vulcan girl stood near the door. T'Beth's heart lurched as she recognized the teenager. Somehow she controlled her outward reaction, but there was no easing of suspicion in Amanda's eyes.

"Hello," T'Beth said carefully.

"Chatai," the girl responded in Vulcan, impossibly calm.

"T'Beth…?" prompted Amanda.

Collecting herself, T'Beth said, "Grandmother, this is…T'Jhur. An acquaintance from school. T'Jhur, this is my grandmother, Amanda Grayson."

T'Jhur faced Grandmother and inclined her head to the socially correct angle of deference. "Lady Amanda, I am honored."

The clock in the hallway chimed. T'Jhur glanced curiously in its direction as T'Beth led the way to the back garden. Already it was hot outside, but at least here they would be assured of privacy. T'Beth went to the shaded corner farthest from the house. Once there, she could no longer contain her emotions.

"What are you doing here?" she coldly demanded. "Have you come to beg—like Samar? _'Please don't tell on me'_ , she mimicked, _'I'm so afraid. Please don't get me into_ _trouble'_. Is that it?"

A suggestion of pain stirred in T'Jhur's dark eyes. Sitting down on a bench, she reached beneath the ankle of her loose-fitting Vulcan trousers and drew out a dagger. For an instant T'Beth thought her former comrade intended to stab her—but no, T'Jhur hunched forward and listlessly tossed the weapon into the sandy soil at her feet. Reaching down, T'Jhur pulled the blade from the ground and tossed it again and again, a graceful but deadly play of shimmering steel and jade.

"Samar is beautiful," T'Jhur said quietly as she worked the knife, "but he is weak and useless. It is wrong for me to say so, but I do not care what happens to him."

"Why _should_ you care?" T'Beth wondered aloud. "What is he to you? Just a foolish malcontent."

The knife sank into the ground. T'Jhur sat up and sighed. "For me, he is more. Since our seventh year we have been betrothed."

T'Beth stared at her. "Why are you telling me this?"

T'Jhur's gaze locked with hers. "Because you have courage, and I admire that. Pay no attention to Samar. Soldac and I are agreed—do whatever you must do at the hearing."

T'Beth's anger subsided. T'Jhur had always been so aloof. It must have taken great effort to open herself. "Come with me to the hearing," T'Beth urged. "We can stand together."

A shadow passed over T'Jhur's youthful face. Retrieving her dagger, she wiped the blade clean on her pant leg and returned it to its sheath. With downcast eyes she said, "It is different for you. Eventually you will leave for some other world. Vulcan and its ways will no longer hold any importance in your life."

T'Beth saw that T'Jhur was as fearful as Samar. T'Jhur had failed to live up to the lofty standard of Vulcan behavior. To reveal the truth would expose her entire family to disgrace and condemnation. Maybe T'Jhur was right—maybe it _was_ different for T'Beth. Sarek and Amanda could retain a certain degree of immunity because she wasn't even half Vulcan like their son. She was an unschooled mixed breed who could not be expected to behave as flawlessly as a planet-born native.

T'Beth found that she felt a little sorry for T'Jhur, trapped in the sticky web of Vulcan culture. "Don't worry," she said. "I won't testify against you."

oooo

T'Beth awoke from a deep sleep. The first pink light of dawn slanted into her bedroom. She thought she had heard her father's voice. Sitting up sleepily, she listened. The voice came again, but it did not belong to Spock. It belonged to Sarek. He was back!

An icy jolt of panic drove every trace of sleep from her. She had not seen the ambassador since the night she took his skimmer and ran off to Seleya. What would he say to her? What would he do? Or would he just ignore her the same way he had ignored his son for eighteen years? And now those two were feuding again—all because of her. With a pang she remembered the bitter argument between Spock and Sarek on the night of the big storm.

T'Beth hurried out of bed and dressed. What use was it to sit around and worry? She would go and get the confrontation over with. Then she would know what to expect.

Steeled by determination, she left her room and wandered through the house until her search led her to her grandparents' bedroom. She could hear them talking behind the thick, expensive wood of the old door. Summoning all her nerve, she knocked.

The voices went silent. A moment later the door opened. Wearing a bathrobe, Grandmother looked at T'Beth with a peculiar little smile that reached the very depths of her blue eyes. T'Beth had not expected a smile. Gazing back in confusion, she said, "I…thought I heard Grandfather."

"You did," Amanda said, opening the door wide. "He's here. Come in."

T'Beth's eyes found him across the room. Dressed in his traveling clothes, he stared back at her, a graying study in solemn-faced Vulcan dignity. T'Beth's knees went weak. "Chatai, Grandfather," she said, a slight quaver in her voice betraying her.

Sarek said nothing. He didn't have to. His eyes spoke eloquently of ruined hopes and failed expectations. Even so, she ventured a step nearer. "Grandfather, I'm sorry I vandalized the temple and lied to the elders. I'm sorry I took your skimmer and ran away. Please don't be angry with Spock because of me."

The room became so still, she could hear leaves rustling in the warm breeze outside the windows. Finally Sarek said, "Spock and I have reconciled. As for the rest—I have noticed that you are so often sorry. Apologies come easy for you—easier, it would seem, than the sort of behavior that would make them unnecessary."

T'Beth hung her head, a bit of happiness stirring at the center of her heart. The longer she stood there, the greater the realization grew. Sarek was speaking to Father again. No wonder Gram looked so happy. And suddenly, T'Beth also began to smile. Sarek was not pleased by it.

oooo

The following day the wind gathered force and roared in from the desert, withering the oasis of ShiKahr with its searing breath. The air filled with fine particles of sand that irritated the eyes and made breathing difficult. Because of the weather, T'Beth had hoped that the hearing might be postponed, but she had not reckoned with the native toughness of the Vulcan race.

Gritty and windblown, she arrived at the pavilion with her grandparents and was ushered into the somber presence of the elders. For a time she sat off to once side with Amanda while Sarek quietly conferred with the council of three. T'Beth's eyes roamed the paneled walls as she listened. Faces seemed to form in the wood grain. Wicked faces, knobby and misshapen as Klingons. That's what they were murmuring about—her background, poor unfortunate child—as they flipped through the printed psychiatric report Sarek had brought along.

T'Beth felt her hands sweating and wiped them on the legs of her Vulcan pants. She told herself, _It's a good thing that Grandfather is bringing all the private little details into the open. He's doing it to help me. Isn't he? Not just trying to lessen the disgrace she had brought to the family name?_

Her head began to hurt. Leaning against Gram's shoulder, she closed her eyes. Amanda smelled good, like warm flowers in the evening. Then Grandmother nudged her. T'Beth glanced around and found Sarek back in his seat.

"It's your turn," Amanda said, her eyes sympathetic but stern.

T'Beth's heart slammed. Taking a deep breath, she approached the high bench. It was a repetition of the first questioning, almost line for line, only this time she responded truthfully. Yes, she was at Golheni Temple. She had gone there to make a political statement by her vandalism. She had taken a laser saw and she had used it. The damage had continued until she was interrupted and chased, narrowly escaping the angry clutches of a Golheni. "I knew then it was a mistake," she admitted. "I think we all did—only we didn't want to back down in front of each other. I'm sorry," she finished. "I wish I could go back and do things differently, but I can't. All I can do now is ask for your mercy and understanding." And she hoped that would end it.

The male elder fixed her with a penetrating gaze. "You have admitted that you did not act alone. How many were with you?"

Her response was no different from that of the Golheni who had sighted them. "Three others."

"What are their names?"

She fought to draw in another deep breath. She could not seem to get enough air. "I…I respectfully decline to answer." A military response she had once read in a book.

One of the female elders leaned forward. "Are they Vulcans or outworlders?"

"I'm sorry," T'Beth said, "but I can't answer that, either."

The elders turned to one another and conferred in whispers. Not so long ago they might simply have ripped the information from her in a mind trial. Now, thankfully, such practices were outlawed. But what would today's Vulcan have in store for her?

Once more the elders looked at her. One of the women said, "Do you consider yourself better than the Golhenis?"

T'Beth's face reddened. She had thought she was prepared for any question, but this one took her by surprise. "Perhaps…on _that_ night I did."

The elder's eyebrow climbed. She sat back in her chair. "Interesting. Did you not find it illogical to use the Golheni's own violent tactics?"

How very like what Father had said. T'Beth glanced at her grandparents, but the looks on their faces only made her feel worse. "I guess…I was not thinking logically," she admitted.

"You guess."

"No," she said firmly. "I'm sure of it."

The male elder spoke. "The Golheni Temple is a monument to Vulcan's savage, bloody past. It is to be preserved as a reminder of what the Vulcan people once were, and what we must never again allow ourselves to become."

"But there still _are_ Golheni," T'Beth boldly interjected.

His hawk-like eyes bored into her. "It may be that there are a few misguided individuals who espouse that dangerous, archaic philosophy, but if so, they are not to be despised or harassed, but rather pitied."

There was a pause. The elders whispered among themselves, then one of the women addressed the chamber. "Does anyone wish to submit any further statement?"

No one spoke.

"Testimony is at an end," she declared.

Wordlessly the elders rose and filed out of the chamber.

T'Beth turned to find Sarek and Amanda standing by their chairs. "Is it over?" she asked nervously. "Can we go home now?"

"The council has not yet dismissed you," Sarek replied. "We wait."

"But they said the testimony was at an end."

"Yes," Amanda explained, "but now they have to consider the testimony and make a ruling. If they don't reach a decision right away—say, in the next hour—we _will_ be able to go home. It all depends on whether or not the elders are in agreement."

T'Beth sat between her grandparents and lowered her head into her hands. Time passed slowly. The pain in her temples had gotten worse. She felt hot and gritty and a little sick to her stomach. Why didn't the elders let them leave for a while? At home she could clean up, she could lie down until she felt better.

The creaking of chairs roused her. She glanced up. Her grandparents were standing again.

"T'Beth," prompted Sarek.

She pulled herself to her feet and saw that the elders had returned to the bench.

"The council has reached a consensus," intoned the male elder, "on the case of T'Beth of the clan Talek-sen-deen."

A female elder spoke. "We have found her record to be a matter of grave concern." Referring to a screen, she read:

"On 38 Belaar of her thirteenth year the subject, while at Pashir, took up a rock and struck a Vulcan minor on the head, rendering him unconscious.

"On 39 Tasmeen of her fourteenth year, the subject was reported missing from the home of her uncle and temporary guardian, S'chn T'gai Sparn, having run away.

"On 47 Belaar of her fifteenth year, the subject was reported missing from the home of her paternal grandfather, S'chn T'gai Sarek, present here. It was on this night that by her own testimony the subject committed acted of vandalism at the Golheni temple beyond the safebelt of ShiKahr.

On 51 Belaar of her fifteenth year, while in this same chamber, the subject committed perjury while responding to questions regarding the aforementioned vandalism.

On 52 Belaar of her fifteenth year, the subject was reported missing from the home of her paternal grandfather, S'chn T'gai Sarek, having taken a skimmer belonging to the aforementioned grandfather, and having once more run away."

"She was upset!" Gram spoke so loudly that her voice echoed. "She went to Mount Seleya to see her father!"

"Amanda," Sarek said tiredly.

Gram ignored him. "She ran away from the home of her uncle because he mistreated her. I would never leave my son with Sparn. I should never have left T'Beth with him, either."

T'Beth looked on, mouth open with amazement. She had never before heard Amanda speak a word against Sarek's brother. Grandfather stood gazing at the ceiling as if he wished it might fall down and bury them all.

The elder waited to see if the interruption was over. Coolly she said, "The testimony is at an end. In reaching our decision we have taken each and every submission into account. Before we proceed, let me remind you. True justice must be blind to all privilege and clan status, including that of krenath."

T'Beth heard a faint sound from Sarek, like a puff of breath passing between his teeth. He was looking at the elders now, stone-like, a hint of anger stirring in the depths of his dark eyes. Amanda moved to his side and rested a hand on his arm.

The male elder consulted the screen. "The council has so ruled:

"First. The subject must refrain from any and all illegal activities and let her whereabouts be known to a legal guardian at all times.

"Second. The subject must continue to receive appropriate psychiatric care on a regular schedule approved by this council.

"Third. The subject and/or her family must pay one-quarter restitution—an amount yet to be determined—for the purpose of repairing the damage at Golheni Temple.

"Fourth. The subject will surrender herself for fifty days of meditative confinement, where it is our hope that she will learn some appreciation for society's rule of order and for the home her family has provided.

"Fifth and final. Following confinement, the subject will be paroled for the duration of two Vulcan years. Failure to honor any of these conditions will be cause for review, and may result in severe penalties."

The chamber went silent.

T'Beth felt the blood drain from her face. Wide-eyed, she grasped Amanda's arm. "Confinement…? You mean they're locking me up?"

Grandmother's eyes seemed unfocussed as she stared into empty space. "I had hoped you would be spared this," she said very quietly. "If only you hadn't run away so many times…"

T'Beth's insides crawled with dread. She turned to her grandfather. Sarek had the same faraway gaze, as if he were already distancing himself from what was certain to be an unpleasant scene.

"S'chn T'gai T'Beth," boomed the voice of the male elder. "You will go with the bailiff."

Her chest heaving, T'Beth looked back and forth at her grandparents. "Now? Right now? Don't let them take me— _please_ don't let them!"

"Go," Sarek said in a pained voice. "The matter is out of our hands."

A soft mist of tears filled her grandmother's eyes. "You must, child. The time will pass quickly, you'll see."

T'Beth felt rooted to the spot. Sarek motioned to the bailiff, and T'Beth found herself pulled by the strong Vulcan woman into an adjoining room. The door shut behind them. The bailiff handed T'Beth a neatly folded bundle of cloth and ordered, "Remove your outerwear, then put this on."

T'Beth's heart cried out to her father. Where was he? Why wasn't he here to stop this? Hadn't he known what they would do? Didn't he care? Fighting tears, she changed into the plain dark robe.

A pair of attendants came and firmly guided her down a long, empty corridor to a Spartan, windowless cell with adjoining bathroom. As the door locked behind her, T'Beth's mind fled to another time, another imprisonment at the hands of her cruel Klingon captor. She began to sob and no longer cared who heard it. Let them despise her weakness. She wasn't a Vulcan. She had never asked to be a Vulcan. She didn't want to be alone! Angrily she thought: _Father, are you happy? Are you satisfied now?_ He _must_ have known about this as they talked at the foot of Mount Seleya. He must have know exactly what they would do, yet he had encouraged her to go back to the council and confess. She had trusted him…and he had betrayed that trust.

T'Beth felt the old bitterness taking root and spreading like poison inside her. All Spock had done was use her—a tool, that's all she was to him—a handy little weapon in the ongoing power struggle between father and son. Well, he had certainly scored a hit this time, even if it _was_ going to cost him some money in temple repair costs. Ambassador Sarek, dragged into court. The ambassador's granddaughter branded a criminal and locked away. _I bet that's more than worth the money—isn't it, Father?_


	2. Chapter 2

Gram had been wrong. The time of confinement did not pass quickly. It crawled by—each slow, miserable hour of loneliness, each dark haunting night. There were instructions written on the walls, no doubt meant for her self-improvement. The order of meditation and its rewards. Surakian platitudes on self-control and the importance of logic. From first sight, she hated them.

At intervals, the plainest of vegetarian food was delivered through a turnstile—every monotonous meal the same, until even the sight of it nauseated her. Glaring at the offensive walls, she paced and relived memories that sickened her even more than the food.

Then, one day, it was over. The door of her cell opened. Wordlessly she was escorted to a room where her clothes awaited her. She tore off the prison robe and dressed. Her grandparents were waiting outside when she emerged. With a sob T'Beth threw herself into Amanda's arms and wept for a long time. When at last she quieted, Sarek arranged a cloak over her head and shoulders, taking care to conceal her tear-swollen eyes with the deep hood.

"Come," he said, and grasping her arm gently, led her out of the building.

It was a silent ride home. Daylight streamed through skimmer windows as they flew above the streets of ShiKahr. Strange. Now that the terrible days of isolation had finally come to an end, T'Beth could think of nothing to say. She felt bruised inside, as if her heart had been trampled underfoot.

When they reached the house, she ran to her bed and grabbed Mister. "It's okay," she soothed, "it's okay, Mister. I'm never going to leave you again." As she held the bear close, she felt safer and the dark ache in her chest eased a bit.

After awhile she went down the hall and showered in the sonic booth to get rid of the prison smell. She emerged and looked at herself in the mirror. A pale, gaunt stranger stared back as she ran a comb through her hair and dressed in fresh clothes. She knew that she must spend a little time with her grandparents. She must say something to them. It was expected of her.

Quietly T'Beth went to find them. At the edge of the living room she stopped, struck by the scene in front of her. Sarek and Amanda sat side by side on the couch, and there were tears on Gram's face. Grandfather was saying, "Vulcan justice can be harsh. They dared not be too lenient."

"Yes, they certainly made that clear," Amanda said curtly. "Sarek, I had thought the Vulcan way was a way of reason and fairness. T'Beth should never have been locked up—not after what she went through with the Klingons." She wiped away her tears and was silent for a moment. Then she said, "I don't look forward to telling Spock…"

T'Beth stepped into the room, her heart pounding. "Don't worry about him. He already knows."

Sarek and Amanda looked at her.

"He was the one who wanted me to go back and tell the truth. He knew what they would do to me."

"I do not see how," Sarek said. "Spock's re-education did include the study of Vulcan law, but he could not have anticipated the hearing's outcome. There are few guidelines for cases such as yours. As in many matters, rulings are left to the discretion of local councils."

"But _you_ knew it might happen," T'Beth argued. "Grandmother said as much in court."

Grandfather's face was grim. "There was, of course, a possibility."

"T'Beth," Amanda said in her peacemaker tone, "it was terrible, but now it's finished. You can start over."

But T'Beth didn't want to let it go. The pain was very fresh, like an acrid taste choking her. "If _you_ knew, then so did Father," she insisted. "I don't ever want to see him again. _Ever!"_

oooo

The winds rose again, but after a week T'Beth awoke to complete silence. It was on that morning that the subspace message arrived from Earth.

"It's for you," Grandmother said carefully, "from your father."

T'Beth walked past the message center without giving it a glance. After dinner she found a disk copy lying on her bed. Anger stirred. Snatching it up, she went out to the skimmer bay and tossed the disk down the disposal chute. Then she went outside. These days she had a strictly enforced curfew—in before dark—but that was still a good hour away. She was not supposed to go anywhere without her grandparents' permission, a legal restriction that she found particularly galling.

Sneaking out the garden gate, she walked beneath the crimson sky to the meditation park that bordered the western safebelt. It was shady there, even if it was too early in the evening to have cooled very much. The smoothly raked sand felt soft underfoot as she walked beneath the twisted branches of the chai trees. She sat down on a bench, by a planting of blood-red foliage.

 _Two years of probation._ T'Beth didn't know if she bear another two years on this miserable, sweltering planet. Before this latest trouble, she had begged Father to go along with him to Earth, and now more than ever she longed for its cool blue skies. But she didn't want to be with _him_ anymore. She wanted to live with Gram's sister, Doris. She wanted to live in Minneapolis, as far away as she could get from Starfleet Headquarters in San Francisco. It snowed there in the winter, cold fat flakes that stuck to your face and—

A shadow moved. T'Beth glanced up and found T'Jhur standing nearby, quietly watching her. At the sight of the Vulcan girl, she flushed with embarrassment. She had not seen the dark-eyed T'Jhur since the time in her grandparents' garden, before the confinement. Council sentences were matters of public record. T'Jhur would know what had happened. She had probably come to offer her condolences.

"T'Jhur," T'Beth said, "you move like a cat—I didn't hear you."

" _You_ move like a LeMatya," T'Jhur responded. "Bold, noble, fearless."

T'Beth looked at the ground, her face burning. "You wouldn't have thought I was fearless if you were there."

T'Jhur sat on the other end of the bench. "But I was _not_ there, T'Beth. The cat was not at your side." Listlessly reaching toward her ankle, she drew out the jade-handled dagger. Its blade flashed as she tossed it down, sinking it hilt-deep in the sand. She stared at it. "I admit that I shed tears when I heard about your sentence. I experienced such shame. But Samar—that _pekh_ only gloated."

T'Beth found it difficult to imagine the perfectly composed T'Jhur in tears, but then she had never heard her curse before, either. She shifted uncomfortably. "Never mind. You're not the first person who's ever let me down. My father's made a career of it. Now, _there's_ a real pekh for you!"

T'Jhur straightened up and looked at her. "Your father is a man of great integrity and courage. Some say he is a hero."

T'Beth gave a bitter laugh. "A _hero._ Yes, I heard all about what happened on Earth with the probe. I've heard about all his other marvelous exploits—how he hooked up the Enterprise mains with his bare hands, how he helped save this planet and that galaxy and maybe even the entire universe a time or two." Her eyes settled on the intricately carved handle protruding from the sand. Bending over, she took the dagger into her hands and studied it with interest. "It's all a bunch of _crap_ ," she said, choosing a Standard variation of pekh. "Heroes aren't real people. You wouldn't want to know my father—not the way he really is, not the way _I_ know him. But go ahead—hold onto your illusions."

T'Jhur's eyes did not waver. "He must have hurt you deeply."

"Now you sound like my analyst," T'Beth complained, "and I can't stand that. Let's talk about this knife instead." She wiped the grains of sand off the blade with her fingers and admired the way the fading light of Eridani glimmered off the flawless Vulcan steel. "It's beautiful—and these runes on the handle—I've never seen anything like them."

"It is very old. An assassin's dagger from the Second Era Golheni." She scarcely waited for T'Beth to absorb the information. "I want you to have it."

T'Beth's eyes widened.

"Will you accept this from me?" T'Jhur asked. "As an offering of friendship?"

"But…but this dagger must be worth a fortune," stammered T'Beth. "Where did you get it?"

"That is not important."

"It is to me. Have you forgotten? I'm on parole."

T'Jhur lowered her eyes. "Alright. I will tell you. It was…a gift from Samar. As you know, his father is a Golheni."

"Is it…stolen?"

"No, T'Beth." Leaning down, she unstrapped the ankle sheath concealed under her clothing and fastened it securely to T'Beth's right leg. "This sheath is modern," she said, covering it with T'Beth's pant leg, "made from the latest sensor-resistant material. It will escape notice most anywhere but on a matter transporter."

T'Beth was torn. The weight of the dagger in her hands felt strangely exciting. So clean, so smooth, so enticingly deadly. What would it be like to carry it hidden against her body, where she had only to reach down and—

But she knew her grandparents would never approve, and as for the council—

But had her parole made any specific mention of daggers? Would it be so unusual for a Vulcan to carry a knife? The land was dangerous beyond the safebelt, with animals and even plants capable of killing a grown man. And sometimes those dangers even found their way into the safebelt.

"I don't know," she wavered. "T'Jhur, this is too much. And what about Samar? Doesn't this rightly belong to his family?"

T'Jhur's dark eyes flashed. "A curse on Samar and his entire misbegotten family! The dagger is mine to give…and I am giving it to you."

Moved by the girl's vehemence, T'Beth slipped the razor-sharp blade into its sheath. It was done. Holding up her hand, she said, "Nemaiyo. Thank you. I am honored."

T'Jhur composed herself. Standing, she inclined her head formally and said, "The honor is mine." Then she slipped silently away and the shadows of the park closed around her.

T'Beth roused herself. High above the treetops, the last orange glow of Eridani was fading to purple. The air was cooling rapidly. Soon it would be completely dark. Leaving the park, she jogged up the twilight streets toward home. The weight of the Golheni dagger felt pleasant against her leg. It was good to have a secret again. She had almost forgotten how it felt, the little thrill of excitement, the way it made her blood pulse, and the way it made everything seem different.

As she rounded the final corner, the streetlights came on. At the same instant a dark shape slipped in front of her. She stopped short and nearly bumped into the tall Vulcan youth. "Samar!" she said, out of breath.

He looked on her with disdain. "What is that on you face— _sweat?"_

She felt the perspiration trickling, but made no move to wipe it away. Samar was not worth even that much effort.

"So," he went on, "you would not listen to me. I can imagine how you sweat as you testified with your grandfather the ambassador looking on."

T'Beth struggled with her temper. "Perhaps you would have liked me to name you in my testimony. It's not too late, cowardly one. It could still be arranged."

His eyes glittered at her with maddening coolness. "No. You will not. You are too much like your _father_."

He had struck a nerve and T'Beth came close to punching him. "Don't be so sure," she threatened and began to walk away. Then on a reckless impulse she turned, smiled at him, and spat in his startled face.

He drew back, wiping at himself in an open display of revulsion.

"What is that on your face?" she mocked. "Spittle?" Heart pounding, she strode up the street. Footsteps followed her. She broke into a run, but he came on steadily and was gaining. A strong hand clamped onto her shoulder and spun her around. Losing her balance, she landed painfully hard in the street. Samar stood over her, his lips drawn back in icy rage.

"Filthy outworlder!" he hissed, and for a moment it seemed as if he would attack her.

T'Beth remembered the dagger at her ankle, but she dared not show it, no matter what happened. The sight of his gift to T'Jhur would only throw Samar into a deeper fury.

A sound in the street caught T'Beth's attention.

"What is this?" spoke a deep, familiar voice.

Relief flooded T'Beth as Sarek appeared under the street lamp.

At the sight of the ambassador, Samar seemed to shrink into himself. "Sir," he bowed nervously.

T'Beth sat up and rubbed her aching forearm. "It's alright, Grandfather," she said evenly. "I fell as I was running home. Samar stopped to help."

Sarek looked long and hard at the youth, then held out his hand to T'Beth. She arose and gingerly checked out her scrapes and bruises.

"If you had come home on time," Sarek said dryly, "there would have been no need to run. If you had let us know where you would be, I would have known where to find you."

"Yes, Grandfather," she said, her head bowed but her eyes on Samar.

Once more Sarek turned his attention to the boy. "Young man, what have _you_ to say?"

Samar's eyes shifted to T'Beth. "It is as she told you, sir. She was running…and then she fell."

Sarek stared at him until the boy fidgeted uneasily. "Who is your father?"

"…Subec," he replied with some reluctance.

"Son of Subec, what business have you on the street at this hour?"

"I…I was walking," Samar answered.

Sarek studied him a moment longer. "Perhaps you, too, should go home. Now."

"Yes sir," he replied and left hurriedly.

Sarek and T'Beth walked the short distance to the estate house in silence. She was uncomfortably aware of having lied to her grandfather, even if it was only a small deceit. And she did not even want to think about the knife strapped above her ankle and what would happen if Sarek discovered it.

When they entered the house Sarek turned to her, his dark eyes demanding the truth. "Where did you go?"

"The meditation park," she replied with pounding heart.

"With Samar?"

She was glad that she could answer honestly. "No, Grandfather."

"How do you know that boy?"

T'Beth looked at the floor, her palms damp, her mind struggling to devise an answer that would satisfy them both. There did not seem to be such an answer.

At last Sarek said, "I do not believe that he was helping you."

T'Beth remained quiet a moment longer. "It may be," she conceded, "that he was not…so very helpful."

Without shifting a muscle of his face, Sarek managed to convey his disapproval. "Rules were broken tonight. Have you so soon forgotten the stern lesson meted out to you in council chambers?"

"No, Grandfather," she said, embarrassed.

"I think it best that you stay off the streets for a time. Do you not agree?"

It was spoken as a dismissal. With a nod of acceptance T'Beth turned and slowly walked to the hall. There she paused and looked back at him. "Grandfather," she said softly, "I'm glad you came for me tonight."

It seemed to her that something in his dark eyes gentled, but she could not be sure. Turning, she went alone into her room and closed the door.


End file.
